Twin Telepathy
by barefoot11
Summary: Gilbert doesn't do 'jealousy' - it's such an unawesome word, anyway. Matthew was crazy to think he could possibly feel such a green emotion... Human names used, Prussia/Canada


**Note**: Written for the Valentine's Day Exchange for PrussiaxCanada on Livejournal.

* * *

He was millimeters away from snapping. _Snapping their necks_! A growl climbed up his throat, and he bent down to press his chin to the table. To make it worse, he was in one of the stupid meeting rooms, the chairs were uncomfortable, and the meeting had yet to start. But to Gilbert, the twins sitting before him were the most aggravating of all.

"Come on, it'll be totally awesome if –"

"No, Alfred, absolutely not. If you put it underwater it'll –"

"But the fishes! Think about the fishes, they'll –"

"No they won't."

"Yes they will! They'll totally love –"

"I don't think fish like hamburgers. Even if they did, they'd have no use for an underwater McDonald's."

Alfred sank, like his idea, into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest, and puffed out his cheeks. He avoided his brother's disappointed gaze and mumbled, "I thought it'd be cool…"

With a sigh, Matthew patted the other's shoulder. He then returned to reading over the packet Ludwig had so graciously handed out, which his brother resumed to turning into many paper planes.

Gilbert, on the other hand, was slowly tearing the packet in half in anger. It was so annoying! Just because they were brothers – "Nyah!" – didn't mean they had to flaunt it in front of – "Nyah~!" – everyone. It was getting – "Nyah!"

"Okay," Gilbert shouted, stopping the brothers from their game of sticking their tongue out at one another, "That's getting annoying. Seriously… annoying…" He ground his teeth together, trying to fight the curse words threatening to spill from his lips. If someone asked him why he was so aggravated, he wouldn't be able to tell them. It was just a feeling… that cut through his heart, through his mind… and it burned. And he didn't enjoy the feeling that he had been set on fire.

Matthew blinked, playing the 'cute card' and cocking his head to the side, so that his bangs mingled with his girlish eyelashes. Whether he was playing the card purposefully couldn't be figured out, but it was having its effect. He innocently asked, "What's getting annoying?"

Alfred had pulled a hamburger from his pocket, and was flicking his eyes between his brother and his brother's boyfriend. The little spats they had were awfully interesting. Though, most of the fights weren't serious, never escalated into anything, and most likely for enjoyment purposes – heck, Alfred truthfully believed that they used it as foreplay. He slurped on the drink he had refilled during the lunch break – half-full, he noted dully in his optimistic way – and leaned back in his chair. He observed the couple like he was watching a movie. A movie that was American made, of course. The little fights barely had a chance against his action flicks…

Gilbert sputtered furiously for a few moments, staring at the Canadian before vaguely gesturing to the brother. "Your whole… telekinesis, thing, or whatever! Can't you at least let the idiot finish a sentence? All the interrupting…" He trailed off, looking away from amused purple orbs.

Alfred wondered who this 'idiot' was, and why he was so important to make Gilbert pissed.

Again, the Canadian took on the mask of guileless perplexity. "Telekinesis, Gilbert? Ah, I don't think I'm moving anything with my mind…" He fixated on his brother's disposable cup for a few moments, making the other groan in annoyance. "…No," he replied, glancing over. "I think you mean 'telepathy'."

The Prussian mimicked him under his breath, rolling his red eyes to the ceiling. "Whatever, telepathy's not awesome enough to be remembered. And it's not awesome enough for you to do it!" He looked to Alfred, just willing him to comment. It was getting odd that he wasn't putting himself into the conversation, especially since it concerned him. Normally, the American threw his opinion into any dialogue he could find.

Alfred was having trouble following all the big words. Seriously, why did his brother need to talk so smart all the time? Everyone knew he was smart for staying out of wars, being nice, _yada yada yada_, but speaking words that no one understood was overstepping the lines just a little bit.

He chuckled, lowly and delicately, splashing a smile on before explaining, "Alfred and I grew up together, and we've grown to figure out what the other's going to say before they say it." He shrugged, impassive on the subject. He found nothing off about it; most siblings had strong bonds tying them together. "…I don't know why it bothers you so much, Gil." Amusement slipped into his voice.

All at once, Alfred sat up straighter. He had no idea when he had been introduced to the conversation, but when his name was said, he knew his two cents needed to be added. "Yeah, we –"

"Don't embarrass yourself," Matthew groaned in a precautionary manner.

"That's exactly it," Gilbert complained, flailing his finger around again. "It's creepy!"

The Canadian caught a flash in his boyfriend's eyes that no one else could see, unless they had spent years with the other like Matthew had. He could characterize Gilbert's suppressed emotions as if they were the countries, those of which he knew by heart. "…Gil…" He leaned forward, looking more closely, because the emotion portrayed at the moment was one rarely seen in action. He had to put this into his memory. "…You're not jealous, are you?"

And with a brief flutter of his eyelids, Gilbert coated his eyes with a layer of vacant moistness, preventing the other from reading him any farther. He growled. "Jealous? That's a load of bull," he dismissed, cutting the conversation off right there. He looked around as the other nations mingled in. It bothered him that his better half had managed to successfully hit the nail on the head, when he couldn't even diagnose himself.

Matthew, with a weary eye, watched the one sitting in front of him. Suspicions rose in his mind, but he knew it could all wait until they were in private.

* * *

Locked doors had never been a problem for Gilbert. By the time he was a mere three hundred years old, he had managed his karate kick, and could kick down doors that were bolted multiple times. His little brother's door was included in that group. Sure, he had only knocked twice, but he shouldn't have to wait forever to be granted access to the house he paid half the rent of! So he kicked down the door like nobody's business.

He couldn't understand why his brother was shouting so loudly in his ear because of it. It had been awesome, and he had even graced his sibling with his presence. What else did anyone need? Gilbert put his hands on his brother's chest to push him away when he got just a bit too close. "Calm down," he said firmly, "I came here to talk to you, after all."

This caught Ludwig's attention like a fish in a net. He cleared his throat, willing away the angry flush that had came over his face. He walked over to his wide couch, and sat, placing his hands in his lap. His brother never wanted to just talk. He usually wanted a friendly fight to calm his nerves, a person to rant expletively to, or someone to annoy when everyone else had wisely hidden in the shadows. But a talk? Never. So he leaned back comfortably and waited. "I'm all ears."

Gilbert cracked a smile. "Nope," he said with his voice as light as the air, as he rested his hands behind his scalp. "You tell me, little bro." If the North American twins could do it, then as sure as heck the German Brothers could manage it as well. It frankly couldn't be that hard.

Ludwig's eyebrow pushed together, since he had no specific facial expression to show his confusion. He wasn't confused that often. "East, I have no –"

"…idea what you're talking about, ha!" He interrupted, putting his hands up in victory. "Yes, see, it's totally not that hard." That showed Matthew. Awesomeness won, again. He felt like performing the embarrassing dance that American football players did at the end zone, or the cute little jig Matthew did when his team won in hockey.

Ludwig took a moment to give his brother a gaze that showed exactly how weirded out he was. "…Could you please explain to me –?"

The silverette supplied, "…what you're carrying on about!" His grin – if it was possible – stretched wider. He pointed a finger to his brother. "I-I don't say this that often, but… you're awesome, West!" And within a flash, he was gone.

After a momentary sigh, the blonde closed his eyes. But when he opened them again, the gaping hole in his wall that used to be his door was still there. Wishing didn't solve anything.

* * *

The one door Gilbert never kicked down was Matthew's. And the reason for that was because he had kicked down the last six of the Canadian's doors, and he realized that the other could actually get angry. The punishment he had received… had been cruel and very unusual. He shivered thinking about it, and lightly rapped on the door.

An angelic and sleepy face peered out when the door was cracked open. He rubbed at his bleary eyes and yawned, "Gilbert, I was just getting in bed…" The large sleeves of his cranberry nightshirt fell down his arm.

"How can you do that without me?"

Matthew managed a half-hearted growl of displeasure at the sly comment. He blinked a few times before speaking again. As the clouds of fatigue cleared from his eyes, he drunk in the sight of his boyfriend wearing a rather excited expression, similar to that of a young child's, despite the obvious age difference. He asked, "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I did it with Germany."

All sense of lethargy gone with that statement, Matthew realized he'd been talking with his brother too much. His mind was in the gutter, and he knew it hadn't always been. "You… you what?!" He also knew that what he thought wasn't possible, but with Gilbert… all things actually turned possible.

Gilbert blinked a couple times – the tables had turned, Matthew played ill-minded while the Prussian was left innocent – before cocking his head back in laughter. "Oh, I'm so proud." He reached out, pulling the other out into the cold air, taking him into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles into his pale, wispy hair. The weak squeal in response didn't faze him. "You're all dirty now!"

"Gil!" Matthew shouted, pulling away when the grip slackened. His purple orbs danced with fury. He had been looking forward to drowning into the silky sheets of his welcomingly warm bed… while the night dowsed him in a misty, flawless feeling… He almost felt his eyes closing, but his boyfriend quickly pulled him back into the scene.

He exclaimed, "No, you know your twin-telekinesis –"

"Telepathy…"

"…telepathy with Alfred?! Well, I've totally got it with my brother too." Excitement flared in his eyes. "So it's much more awesome now that I can do it." He crossed his arms, and took a step back to survey his better half's reaction. He could imagine the shock that would pass across his face, and he could see when he would throw his arm around him so gratefully, saying that he didn't know how he lived before him.

Matthew nodded, rubbing his eyes again. "Yeah, that's really great, Gil…" He looked up pleadingly. "Can I go back to bed now? I'm really, really tired…" He pouted, playing the 'cute card' again, and the other realized that Matthew had always played it on accident.

Never would Gilbert admit it, but his heart melted a little bit. The flustered and enervated expression was so adorable, and the way he dabbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist was endearing. The overwhelming urge to gloat lingered and then vanished. He placed a hand on the other's shoulder, and sighed in a warm exhale of breath, one that mingled with the air and created puffs of white condensation. "Yeah. Go to bed, honey," he allowed, bending down to press a kiss to his hairline.

The Canadian allowed the fond nickname, and smiled meekly. "Thank you." He returned the favor by lifting himself on his toes to kiss him sweetly, before turning around and opening his door. "Good night," he said over his shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow." He was given a small wave, and then he entered his empty home. He shut the door, preventing any other frigid wind to filter into the house. He yawned again, and leaned against the wooden door. Just a few moments wouldn't hurt, if he stood there, just to get enough wits about him to figure out how to walk up the staircase. He let his eyes open a bit, and stared forward as he thought of the last few minutes. A smile graced his mouth, and he put a finger to his lips. Jealousy looked so good on Gilbert, it was almost criminal… that flash in his deep, blood red eyes that captivated him so, and the way he carried himself in a charming way made goose-bumps rise on his skin. As he finally ripped himself from the door, his mind clouded like a school girl's, he stepped toward the stairs, grabbing the railing. Being in love was so irresistible, it made every day a bit more sparkly… and he had always liked glittery things.

* * *

**A/N**: The prompt was: _a. Gilbert is jealous over the "twin-connection" between Matt and Al, but won't admit to it. _Submitted by **soofichan** on Livejournal._  
_

The prompt was so original, I couldn't turn it down. I loved it. 3 And I had to twist it myself, too.

If you're asking why Gilbert knew what Ludwig was saying, it's just because Ludwig's predictable, really predictable; so it doesn't really prove anything. xD Alfred, on the other hand, is severely spontaneous so Matthew actually has a gift with him.

R&R~!


End file.
